


Bright Blue

by vandalwithoutacause



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandalwithoutacause/pseuds/vandalwithoutacause
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In addition to the rest of her outfits Carmilla also picked out all of Laura's underwear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Because I couldn't sort out their voices and I was amused to think that in addition to the rest of her outfits Carmilla probably also picked out all of Laura's underwear.
> 
> Takes place sometime near the start of season 2?

"An entire campus’ worth of abandoned wardrobes and these are the best you could scavenge from the wreckage?"

Peace and quiet had settled over the manor shortly after you and your motley crew moved in, allowing you to make it a full 37 pages into your dog-eared and broken-spined copy of Camus' _L'exil et le Royaume_ , not his best work, so it is with more than a little remorse that you drag your eyes away on the tail end of "--je riais toujours, couvert de sang.” You are only marginally surprised to find Laura Hollis standing at the lintel, one hand perched petulantly on her hip while from the other dangles a pair of bright blue lace panties.

You smirk.

"Honestly, Carmilla, it’s bad enough having to resort to second-hand underwear. Who _knows_ where these have been?"

"I could make an educated guess." You smile sweetly. Or lecherously, one of the two.

"Carm, I'm serious. Because of you I have _eleven_ pairs of these in _nine_ different colors. And matching bras!" She chucks them right at your face with ungrateful nerve, and now the only one wearing cute blue lace panties is you. As a hat. "What did you do, knock over a Victoria's Secret?" she grumbles.

Daintily you grasp the panties, stretch them generously at the waistband, and send them sailing right back at Laura, who catches them in the forehead. She splutters, unamused.

"Well you don't have to wear them, cupcake," you offer dryly.

She throws up her arms, your little ball of melodramatic exasperation. "They're all I have!" she cries. You are strangely charmed.

"Then just go commando and tomorrow I'll run out and ransack the gym or something. I'm sure the Summer Society has a stockpile of sufficiently droll whitie-tighties hidden under the bleachers."

Laura grimaces. "Congratulations, you have found the only worse alternative to wearing your ex-study buddies' weirdly seductive cast-offs."

* * *

It's gotten fairly late into the night the next time Laura sets foot in the den. You of course are still curled up on the chaise now a further eighty-two pages into Camus' collection of pedantic short stories, and she is hauling a full laundry basket up from the basement. You get up to help her before she upends the whole precariously-balanced load over her head and sends herself flailing backwards down the steps.

That's when you notice them. Eleven pairs of freshly laundered panties, and only one of them plain white cotton.

"What's this?" You glance pointedly at her neatly folded underwear.

Laura flushes clean from her collarbones to her ear-tips, bright pink and endearing, and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "I mean so maybe they're not as uncomfortable as I thought they'd be..."

You take quick inventory of the basket's contents. She'd have to be wearing the red ones then. Your eyes flash in sudden interest.

"What, uh...--" Even with over 300 years of practice, higher-level brain functions become suddenly difficult as you find yourself magnificently side-lined by the mental image of that delicate strip of red lace cradled along the line of her hipbone. "Do you want a hand putting this away?" is the best you can manage.

Laura smiles, takes a half-step into your space, and kisses you on the cheek. Her hand lingers at your jawline for an extra two heartbeats -- you count. "Sure, Carm, that'd be great."

You follow her up the stairs to your bedroom.

* * *

You forget about the laundry basket the instant you set it down at the foot of your bed, and immediately move to snake an arm around Laura's midsection. It really is quite late, probably after midnight now. She mostly likely intended to put away her clean laundry before bed and is therefore only wearing a thin gray cami and a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants.

They've got tiny little frogs printed all over them. Naturally.

You move your hand just slightly under the waistband of her pants and she pulls in a quiet breath. You suspect she has also forgotten about the laundry basket, but just in case she hasn't you bring your lips to suck gently at the valley of her collarbone, nipping at her pulse point.

"Carmilla," she murmurs, and you hum quietly in response.

"Is this ok?" you ask.

She swallows thickly and you feel her throat bob against your lips. "Yeah..." Her hand tangles in the curls at the ends of your hair, tugging you back slightly so that she can bring your lips together. You sigh into her kiss, and when she runs her tongue against your lower lip you retaliate by nipping at hers with your teeth. The hand that isn’t in your hair slips up the curve of your back underneath your shirt.

You smile when she pulls at the hem, stepping back from the kiss to allow her to slide it up and over your head. In the same instant that she registers the gaudy lingerie you're forever trying to pass off as normal every-day underwear you remember what she has on underneath her dancing-frog pajamas. You reach out to undo the drawstring as she pulls you closer and lays a kiss along the swell of your breast. Her pants slip down her hips and she steps out of them, walking you backwards until your knees find the edge of the bed.

Your hair tumbles unevenly over your shoulders when she tips your head back, nipping and sucking at your neck, before pushing you down and straddling your lap. When you look down you find your denim-clad thighs bracketed by Laura Hollis' naked legs, and just the slightest flash of bright red lace tracing the contours of her hips. As you run your hand up the inside of her thigh to pull at the little scrap of fabric, you think that it pairs nicely with her grey cami but it does nothing to hide how soaked she is. You nudge the lace aside and stroke lightly into her, gathering her wetness with your fingertips, then suck her off of them with a quiet moan. Her eyes darken perceptibly.

You bring your fingers back to her sex and stroke a little more firmly now that the fabric is properly pushed off to the side, and she drops her forehead a few short inches to rest against yours, her uneven breath ghosting over your lips. She runs quite a bit warmer than you at rest, and right now her sighs are hot against your mouth. You mean to lick your own lips but lick hers instead.

Your fingers wander over her, trailing aimlessly through her slickness, and she gives you a frustrated whine.

“ _Fuck_ , Carm. What are you doing?”

You fist your other hand in her hair and lightly pull her head back so you can work at her throat, and then you suck several small bruises into her delicate skin. She gasps and you like the sound so dearly that you slip two fingers into her just to hear it again. You are not disappointed, and she rewards you with her ragged breaths over and over again. You rub your thumb across her clit and one of her breaths transmutes midway into a choked sob.

Laura is matching your rhythm unconsciously now, moaning and digging her nails into your shoulders. You pull back from her throat and look down to watch transfixed as she rides your hand, your fingers disappearing inside of her.

You watch long enough to realize that you’re almost as soaked as she is.

“Oh god, Carmilla, that feels so good—“ You stroke into her with the same fervor that she ruts against your hand, both of you gasping against each other’s lips, and when you feel her body tighten from the inside-out you press your mouth against hers and she kisses you through her orgasm, whispering “Carm,” and “love,” and “beautiful.”

Your fingers are still buried to the knuckle inside of her and she is dripping down your wrist as she gradually comes down off of her high. You both moan a little at the sensation as you start to pull slowly out of her.

Laura grabs your wrist. “Don’t.” She lets out a shuddering breath. “Just stay for a second.”

She never ceases to affect you in startling new ways. Every moment you spend with her is its own unique revelation, and in this one you realize that you don’t know when you started loving her.

Once she’s caught her breath Laura pushes at your shoulders so that you drop back against the bed, your fingers slipping out of her along the way. She kisses up the plane of your stomach as you suck them clean.

“Jesus, Carm.” She’s watching you and you smirk around your own fingers.

“Take off your shirt, cupcake.” You reach back to undo your bra in exchange and flick it across the room to join the rest of her clothes. She shimmies out of her ruined panties too.

“Why are you wearing jeans in bed _again_?” You roll your eyes but kick them off obediently along with your (matching) underwear and once you’re both finally naked Laura tackles you into the sheets and you both revel in the feel of so much _skin._

You hum contentedly when she kisses along the column of your throat. Her hands are restless at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts. She breaks away from your neck to alternate sucking and biting at your nipples.

“Laura—“ you gasp out at a particularly sharp bite.

“Ok?”

You run your hands up her back to tangle them in her hair, breathing out “yes, yes, very ok—“ while she returns her attention, grinning, to your chest. You become powerfully aware how much _warmer_ than you she is.

She’s started working her way back down your body now, kissing and biting lightly at what you’ve learned are some of her favorite curves, and you’re beginning to worry that she’s in a teasing mood.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” you warn lowly. She takes it as a challenge and kisses lightly up the inside of your thigh. Your head falls back against the bed with a groan. “Lauraaaaa…”

You feel her breath against you as she giggles. “Carmillaaaa…” she mocks, and you are just about to retaliate when suddenly her tongue runs up against you and you are instantly both paralyzed and flooded. “Oh, god,” she moans and you moan with her, grabbing roughly at your own breast as she begins to lick rhythmically at your clit. You fist your other hand in the sheets. Vampire strength has proven inconvenient in these situations in the past.

“ _Jesus._ ” There’s no way to be sure who said it, enraptured as you both are, but you think it must have been you since you can feel how occupied her mouth is. Your hips jump up to meet her tongue while you pinch at your own nipple. She brings her hand up to tangle her fingers with yours over your breast.

You are drenched very likely to the point of dripping and you want so much more than what she’s giving you in this moment, you want everything she has including the things she doesn’t know about yet. Every teasing lick winds you tighter; you want her with your entire body.

"Oh god, Laura, inside, please, I need --" you beg yourself hoarse and still she only sucks at you harder, occasionally running her tongue over the full length of you, and you feel it from your toenails to the tip of your nose. You feel her everywhere, the fingers of her left hand clawing at your hip, her hair draped over your thighs, her scratches at the base of your shoulder blades.

"Laura, Laura, Laura --" you chant, you gasp, you sob, and finally on your fifth broken plea she brings her right hand up and slowly drags a single finger through your wetness before pushing into you, and even though she's finally inside of you it's nowhere near enough, you still feel so empty, you still ache for her, you still throb dully from the middle of your chest, so you switch to crying "please, Laura, more, God I need more," never once stopping to reflect on the shattered wreck you've allowed her to reduce you to. 

She pumps her single finger lazily in and out of you, and in the tense stillness between shallow thrusts you become more and more hers.

You feel the corners of your eyes prick and you beg "please, more, please --" and eventually she takes pity on your wretched soul and begins to fuck you properly with first two and then three fingers, curling them inside of you and dragging against your g-spot as she tongues relentlessly at your clit. You come after only a few moments of her rough treatment, panting and shuddering and choking on her name.

Exhausted, you guide her lips up to yours and pull the blankets up to cover the both of you. She pulls your arm around her waist and snuggles into place along your side.

"Love you, Carm," she mumbles sleepily.

"Love you too, cupcake."

For the first time in a long while, you fall asleep effortlessly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧


End file.
